Pages

Wednesday, 30 January 2013

'Chineser points' is a kind of game played by people, like myself, of Chinese-descent. There are no rules, but points are awarded or deducted for behaviour worthy or unworthy of being Chinese. To be honest, I'm not a great Chineser; I probably have a net points tally in the negative. However, as I get older I reckon I'm becoming better at accruing Chineser points.

Take, for example, my recent visit to Boston, where I bagged a monster haul of points by visiting one of the most Chinese restaurants I have ever come across. Hei La Moon 囍臨門 might be located in New England, but it is very much Old China. This dai jau lau 大酒樓 – the kind of place that serves multi-course banquets by night, and dim sum by day – ticks all the Chineser-boxes (and more) with its gaudy red and gold interior; trolley-service dim sum; fish tanks at the entrance; multi-generation Chinese clientele and, last but not least, a super-auspicious address at 88 Beach St.

Wu gok

However, just because a restaurant looks the part doesn't necessarily mean the food delivers. At Hei La Moon, it does. Highlights included ginormous wu gok 芋角 (these taro croquettes were so big that the trolley auntie cut them in half with scissors) and steamed chive dumplings (gow choi gau 韭菜餃) chock full of herby prawn goodness.

Chive dumplings

Cha siu bao

The other dishes were pretty decent, too; classics (including cha siu bao 叉燒飽, siu mai 燒賣 and cheung fun 腸粉) were generous of portion and full of flavour. The only blot on the landscape was the har gau 蝦餃 that suffered from thick pastry syndrome, but this was partially redeemed by the tasty prawn filling that included slithers of bamboo shoots.

Har gau

Sadly, as there were only two of us, we merely scratched the surface of the dim sum selection at Hei La Moon. For instance, we missed out on the delights from the dessert trolley, congee trolley, and a trolley where the auntie finished off pan-frying dishes such as loh bak gao (turnip cake 蘿蔔糕). At US$35 for eight dishes, tea and a tip, our meal was amazing value. In truth, we over-ordered and we packed the leftovers in one of those iconic American takeaway containers.

Service was above par; the trolley aunties were friendly and efficient, and I was impressed by the manager who sent a waiter to fetch some dumplings from a trolley stranded at the other end of the dining room. But the real draw of this restaurant is its atmosphere; there's something particularly joyful about trolley-service dim sum in a dining room full of chattering punters. I adore restaurants like Hei La Moon, and while it may be a bit rough around the edges, its enduring old school charm is a winner.

One last thing, in common with virtually all restaurants that serve quality dim sum, Hei La Moon gets really busy on a Sunday. As it serves dim sum from 8.30am to 3.00pm, my advice is to get there early. We went just before 11am, and the dining room on the lower level, where we were seated, was already nearly full. By the time we left, around an hour later, both floors of the restaurant were full and there was a queue outside.

PS: Happy as I was at bagging a bonus haul of Chineser points, I felt a bit bad having deprived my colleague (of Italian ancestry) of crucial punti italiani. The thing is there could only be one first proper meal in Boston, and I coerced gently persuaded him into going for Sunday brunch in Chinatown rather than at one of the numerous trattoria in the city's North End.

Tuesday, 22 January 2013

Me: 'If you don't mind me asking, why do you eat your dinner like that?'
G: 'Like what?'
Me: 'You know, veg first, chips next, steak last.'
G: 'I like to save the best 'til last; I do it with all my meals.'

I thought, my then colleague, G was a bit of a weirdo. The thing is the steak would be ruined by the time he tucked into it. Being a forthright little so-and-so I let him know, in no uncertain terms, that his best 'til last strategy was a load of bollocks (although, for some reason, I didn't chastise him for the far more heinous crime of ordering his steak well done). Looking back I feel bad at having had a pop at G, as who doesn't have a food habit that others think contrary, odd or rude? I know I do. I probably have several. But there's one habit that friends of mine think is proper weird.

The sausage 'breakwater' as devised by Alan Partridge

I love a full English breakfast, but I have certain ground rules when it comes to how it's served. I won't bore you with a list, as I'm not that intolerant when it comes to the humble fry-up. That said, it really gets on my tits when the baked beans come into contact with the fried egg. I hate it when this happens, and nothing makes me happier than when the beans are served in a separate container. Failing that, the egg should be at the opposite end of the plate to the beans. At worst, the sausage should act as a breakwater to stop the beans touching the egg (I have the legendary Alan Partridge to thank for that last tip).

Reaction to my behaviour ranges from agreement (one person) through mild bemusement (most people) to those that think I'm a right diva (a significant minority). Yes, I know it's weird, as bean-egg touchage doesn't even really affect the taste of the overall fry-up. But what about you guys? Any of you want to fess up to strange dining habits?

Thursday, 10 January 2013

I'm not really sure that the opening of a handful of ramen joints in London last year really constitutes a trend. Mind you, there's been a lot of hype about these Japanese noodles as of late. That's no bad thing, but what if you don't know your ramen from your udon? Or your tonkotsu from your tonkatsu? Well fear not, help is at hand.

What is ramen?
Like so many great things ramen has its roots in China, and it was immigrants from that country which introduced this soup noodle dish to Japan in the 19th century. In its simplest form, ramen dishes consist of noodles served in broth with toppings. The toppings vary depending on the style of ramen, but pork, egg, menma (fermented bamboo shoots), spring onions and different types of seaweed are most common. However, there's a fair bit of experimentation, and toppings such as sweetcorn and butter sometimes make an appearance. Ramen noodles are wheat-based, and although they vary in shape and size, have a common characteristic of being springy (from the alkali water used in the noodle dough) in contrast to udon, a thicker chewier noodle. But for all that, the most important aspect of ramen is, undoubtedly, the broth.

What are the different broths?
The broths served with ramen are based on a stock made from either pork, chicken, seafood, veggies or a blend of some or all of the aforementioned. The style of broth can be characterised by its tare or flavour base. For example, shio (literally, salt) is based on a tare made from a reduction of dried seafood and seaweed that imparts salty and umami flavours. Other tare include shoyu (soy sauce) and miso. These categories are quite broad, and there's no set way of preparing the different styles, as chefs like to put their own signature on their creations. There is, however, one style of broth I have yet to mention: the legendary tonkotsu (not to be confused with tonkatsu, a breaded pork chop), and it is this milky-white porky broth that is at the forefront of the ramen renaissance in London.

Tonkotsu stock @ Bone Daddies, London

So what's the big deal about tonkotsu?Tonkotsu (originally from Hakata in southern Japan) differs from other types of broth in that the flavour comes mainly from the stock itself rather than from the tare. To make tonkotsu broth, pork bones are boiled for ages so that they break down and release collagen into the stock. The end-product can be a bit too thick and porky, though, and therefore it's usually blended and thinned out by mixing with a lighter chicken, fish or veggie stock. Such is the richness of tonkotsu broth, the noodles served with it should be thinner and straighter than those served with lighter soups.

Where's best to go in London?
Ramen isn't all that new to London. After all, Wagamama (and a whole host of noodle bars inspired by this chain) first popularised ramen way back in the 1990s. However, like the London burger explosion, a number of restaurants are attempting to take things to the next level. In the past year, Ittenbari, Tonkotsu Bar & Ramen, and most recently, Shoryu and Bone Daddies have all set up shop in the capital. The latter two are my current favourites.

However, let's not discount the likes of more traditional Japanese restaurants such as Nagomi and Cocoro, which have been quietly serving ramen (including the prized tonkotsu) for a number of years. I've also noticed that sushi chains such as YO! Sushi and Feng Sushi have recently jumped on the ramen bandwagon. Although I've not tried the offerings at these places, it's unlikely that they’re much cop (yes I know, I'm such a noodle snob).

The London ramen scene is exciting but there isn't, in my opinion, a killer ramen shop just yet. Having said that, the recent spate of openings can only be a good thing for the capital's noodle fans. I have only really skimmed the surface when it comes to ramen, and for further reading I can point you to Kavey who identifies some of the different regional styles in this post. And for those of you that really want to geek-up on the subject then check out Rameniac whose interactive map is a work of art.